


Nocuous Rites

by Pureblood_Muggle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 10:43:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20044681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pureblood_Muggle/pseuds/Pureblood_Muggle
Summary: On Christmas Eve 2020, a visitor unexpectedly drops into Draco's house. He tells an incredible story about his wife, a curse, and her impending death. A race against time, to save an old acquaintance, begins.





	Nocuous Rites

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NuclearNik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NuclearNik/gifts).

> Written for NuclearNik  
**Prompt:**
> 
> An ancient family curse, a deadline fast approaching, and unexpected allies.
> 
> *~*~*~*  
I truly hope you enjoy this. My apologies for it being late. <3

Thursday, 24th December 2020

“Dad, come on! We’re going to be late!” 

Scorpius was clutching Christmas presents in his arms while pacing back and forth in front of the ornate fireplace in the library. After everything they had gone through this year, they had decided to accept Harry Potter’s invitation to spend Christmas Eve at 12, Grimmauld Place. Scorpius could hardly wait to see Al, not to forget Al’s cousins, Rose in particular. He was sure that after their ordeal with the Timeturner, she had begun to warm up to him. Why else would she have actually greeted him in the corridor? Publicly acknowledged him at school! 

“Daaaaad!”

Draco walked into the room, his hands still busy with his dark grey tie. 

“You know, we’re not expected for another 20 minutes, Scorp. I’m sure Rose won’t be there yet either.” He went to the mirror over the fireplace in an effort not to laugh into his son’s reddening face.

“Daaaad. Please don’t.”

“Don’t worry, son, I won’t embarrass you in front of your crush.”

“I shouldn’t have told you,” Scorpius pouted and kicked his foot at nothing at all. 

Draco finished with his tie and raked his hand through his newly cut, short hair. He really did look too much like his father when he had it long. He turned to Scorpius, serious now. 

“No. I’m glad you told me. I promise I won’t embarrass you tonight. Your secret is safe with me. Slytherin honour.” Scorpius nodded. “And why don’t you go ahead? I just have to finish a note to your grandparents and I’ll follow right after.”

“Really?” Scorpius asked while already grabbing the Floo powder and throwing it into the flames without even waiting for an answer. Beaming, he called out the Potters’ address and disappeared in a sea of green. Draco shook his head, smiling. His son truly was so different to who he himself had been at 14.

Alone now, he allowed himself a little time to just watch Astoria’s photograph on the mantelpiece. It had been taken just a couple of days before Scorpius had started his first year at Hogwarts. Happier times before the blood curse had taken bigger tolls and her health deteriorated at an alarming rate. 

He still missed Astoria daily. He found himself wanting to talk to her about Scorpius, but instead, more often than not, found himself talking to nobody but her memory while drinking yet another glass of Ogden’s finest Single Malt. 

Draco shook himself, rolled his shoulders and purposefully strode to his desk to grab a quill and parchment to send a note to his parents. They wouldn’t like him spending the evening with the Potters and Weasleys but they would have to deal. He didn’t care for their drama, which is why he hadn’t informed them earlier. He’d deal with them tomorrow.

He finished the note off with a flourish of his well-practised signature and walked over to his eagle owl who was napping on her perch next to the window. An owl treat certainly helped and so, note dispatched, he pulled on his dinner jacket and took some Floo powder ready to depart.

The wards around his house went off with a shrieking sound. 

Draco dropped the Floo powder to the floor and whipped his wand out of his pocket. Not many people knew his address these days and those who did know wouldn’t set the wards off like this. Ever since he left Malfoy Manor to live in peace with his late wife and their son he had enjoyed the anonymity that came with it. 

Even now, twenty-two years since the Battle of Hogwarts, stares and whispers followed him wherever he went. Suspicion, rumours, and sometimes even outright hostility were not unheard of. So it wasn’t hard to make the decision to buy a place and make it unplottable to Muggle and Wizardkind alike. 

He approached his own front door with great apprehension and wished that he did have a house-elf after all. 

Standing just behind the large wooden door, he could hear a male person muttering on the other side of it. The voice sounded familiar though he couldn’t place it. Carefully and silently, he took the wards down and placed his left hand on the doorknob, his wand tightly held aloft with his right. 

Draco closed his eyes, took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Eyes open, he took another breath ready to stun whoever it was on the other side and pulled the door open. 

The person on the other side had clearly been leaning on the door and fell forwards as it opened. Draco quickly jumped out of his way, wand still trained on the visitor who was now sprawled on the tiled entrance hall floor. 

The man got up awkwardly. Draco stared as he recognised his old Slytherin housemate.

“Flint? What are you doing here? Who told you where I live?” He did not lower his wand.

“Draco! Thank Merlin. I need your help.”

“This is not a good time, Flint. Who told you where to find me?”

“I need your help now.”

“Why? What’s going on?” Draco stared at Marcus Flint some more and noticed the dark circles under his eyes and the desperate look on his face, the way his lips pulled tight around his crooked teeth. Still, whatever it was wasn’t his problem. “Forget it. I don’t want to know. Just go. I am expected elsewhere.” He would have to redo charms on the house. 

“Hear me out!”

“Not now, Flint.” He pointed at the still open front door and hoped that Marcus would take the hint. He hadn’t seen nor heard from the man in about a decade and certainly didn’t need him to ruin a Christmas that was already difficult to deal with. 

“I know about your Timeturner!”

“I don’t have a Timeturner, Flint. Leave. Please.”

“You do. I know you do. And it takes you back to whenever and you can stay there for however long you want.”

“Been visiting Nott in Azkaban, have you?” That would explain how Marcus got his address. “You shouldn’t believe everything he tells you. I don’t have it.

“I know you do. And if you don’t help me I’ll tip off the Ministry.”

“By all means, Flint, be my guest and call the Ministry. It won’t change the fact that I do not have a Timeturner of any kind in my possession. As a matter of fact, I’m expected at the Head of the DMLE for dinner. Would you like me to bring Harry Potter a message for you?”

Draco nearly laughed at Flint’s expression. He could tell he had shocked the older man.

“You? Dinner at Potter’s house?”

Draco shrugged his shoulders and said nothing. Flint screwed up his face in anguish before turning and slamming his fist into the wall. 

“Easy there, Flint.” He pointed his wand at Marcus, ready to stun him if necessary.

“Pansy’s dying. I need the Timeturner to fix it. Who has it now?”

Draco lowered his wand a fraction at the news. Pansy and he hadn’t parted on good terms when their friendship fell apart after the Battle of Hogwarts but to hear she’s dying felt like a punch to his gut nonetheless. It felt sickeningly similar to realising Astoria’s illness progressed too quickly. For a moment he was back at his own wife’s bedside wishing he could turn back time to have more of it together. 

“What happened?” he heard himself ask quietly. 

“Old family curse. Can we sit down? Merlin, I need a drink.”

Draco resigned himself to being late. Sending Flint away was one thing, but hearing that Pansy was dying... He closed the door and led the other man into the front receiving room. 

“Have a seat. I’ll get us drinks.” With that, he withdrew to his library and grabbed Floo powder out of the emerald jar on the mantelpiece. Seconds later, his head was floating in the Potters’ fireplace.

“Draco! Come on through,” Ginny greeted him warmly.

“My apologies, Ginny. I can’t. Something came up rather unexpectedly. I will be delayed. Please do not to wait for me for dinner to start. As soon as I can, I will join you.”

“Is everything alright?” Her smile faded and her brows knit together.

“Yes, I’m sure all will be well. Send my regards to Harry and please let Scorpius know not to worry. I shouldn’t be longer than an hour, perhaps.”

“Of course. Are you sure everything is fine?”

He nodded his head. “Thank you, Ginny.” Without waiting for another reply, he pulled back from the fire and then levitated two tumblers plus the whisky decanter ahead of him.

Draco poured two generous helpings and handed one to Marcus. The two men sat, facing each other in leather armchairs by the fire Draco quickly conjured to warm the room. 

“Right. Tell me what’s going on with Pansy.”

For a moment, Marcus didn’t speak, only swirled the amber liquid around the small crystal tumbler. He took a sip, closed his eyes, and sighed before answering.

“This is going to make me sound like an ass of epic proportions.”

Draco snorted. 

“I know, I know, no surprise there.” He sighed heavily. “Pansy - she was… convenient, when we met.” He flinched at his own words. “She was an angry woman, back then. You’d broken her heart.” 

Draco snorted again.

“Yeah, okay, no. You didn’t. She was angry with you though. For most of her life, she believed you would marry her. She wanted you. It was what she expected. And truth be told, we all did.”

Marcus paused to take another sip of whisky. 

“I met her one night, in a pub down at the corner of Knockturn. She was drowning her sorrows and, well, one thing led to another and we started seeing each other, kind of. Loosely, at first. I think both of us were just disillusioned after the war, and angry at being let down, losing friends and family. I admit I used her. I believe she used me the same way. When we were together, we forgot the rest of the world.”

Draco held up a hand. “I really don’t need to know those kinds of details.”

“I proposed to her, you know. It would be convenient. My parents would finally stop pestering me to get a good pureblood wife. Her parents pressured her in the same vein. They blamed her, you know, for you not proposing.” Marcus shook his head. 

“She said ‘no’. Until it became apparent to her that you were hopelessly in love with Astoria. I always knew I wasn’t her first choice. She wanted your name and your fortune. Not me. Never me. And I didn’t care.” He drained his glass and motioned for a refill. Draco obliged.

“When she eventually accepted, long after you had married, our parents decided on a New Year’s Eve wedding. Nothing grand, but extravagant and exclusive. Do you know why they called it exclusive? Because nobody would’ve come anyway. To keep up pretences.” Marcus gave a hollow laugh. 

“Pretending is pretty much all we did at the beginning. After our parents got their way of a proper wedding ceremony as they called it, you know, the old fashioned way, handfasting and all, we pretty much lived our own lives. I had other women. I’m sure she had other men.” 

Draco drained his own tumbler and topped up both drinks even though Marcus hadn’t finished his. This really wasn’t what he had in mind for Christmas eve. He hoped Scorpius was alright.

“Funny thing is though, I fell in love with her. I love her, Draco. I can’t lose her.” His face screwed up and for a moment Draco feared that Marcus was going to lose all composure right here in front of him. He had no idea how to deal with that. 

“What happened to make her sick?” Draco brought himself to ask after it became apparent that Marcus wasn’t going to speak again.

“My family,” Flint choked out. “My father, he took me aside last year to inform me that he had expected an heir by now. Pansy, we, that is… we’ve tried. To have a child. It wasn’t to be. Eight years we’ve tried now. Eight years.

“We’ve seen Healers since my father spoke to me and know now that she will not ever conceive.”

“And the reason she can’t has to do with her being ill?”

“Oh, she’s not ill.”

“But you said she’s dying.”

“Not yet, but she will. On New Year’s Eve.”

“How do you figure that one?”

“You see, that’s the other thing my father told me.” He laughed without humour. “Our family is cursed. Nine generations and counting. Our whole family. My uncle’s wife died because of it. Others before have. Nine generations of Flints and in every single one at least one wife died on her 10th wedding anniversary. For no other reason than not having born a son.”

“What?”

“You heard me. If your wife doesn’t bear you a male heir within 10 years of your marriage vows, she will die. No matter if she had female children. It happened whenever no male offspring arrived. I didn’t believe him either. Then he showed me all the evidence he had throughout the years, decades. Our family was cursed by a disgruntled old hag. Nobody knows why or how she did it but I can’t dismiss it. For the past year, I’ve tried everything I could think of to find out how to save Pansy. All that’s left, all I can think of is going back to when she cursed my family. See if I can stop her.” 

He looked at his full glass and lifted it as if to drain it again but thought better of it and set it down on the small side table. 

“You can’t tell me you wouldn’t do the same for Astoria if you could. Draco please, I need to know where that Timeturner is. If you don’t want to help me, do it for Pansy.”

“What does she say about all this? Does she believe in that curse?”

“I haven’t told her.”

“How could you not have told her?”

“She’s perfectly healthy, right now. I don’t want to scare her. Merlin, I can’t think straight.”

_ You never could _ , Draco thought viciously. Out loud though, he said, “You have to tell her. She has a right to know.”

“If I get the Timeturner she might never have to know!”

“And if not? You’ll let her die without giving her time to say good-bye to her friends, her parents?”

“She can’t die. This, it has to work. We know who the first cursed Flints were. Draco, I just need to stop the curse!”

“You can’t do that. It would change the timeline too much.” He held up a hand to stop him from interrupting. “Hear me out, Flint. Marcus.” Draco rubbed his face and willed his emotions to remain under control. 

“I know how tempting it is to go back and change things. Hell, what I wouldn’t give to go back and spend just another minute with Astoria. To see her one more time, hear her laugh. It isn’t possible though. It would change the world as we know it. You can’t stop the curse, even if you could go back. You’d still have to let it happen.”

“You want me to let Pansy die?”

“No, of course not, but I want you to stop and think about what you’re trying to do! Who knows what would happen if you stopped the curse. People-”

“Would live. That’s all that would happen. 11 women would live longer than exactly 10 years into their marriages!”

“And yet, they would have an impact on those around them, the world in general, and the whole timeline would change and nobody could predict in what way. It’s too dangerous. You mustn’t change the past!”

“What would you have me do then? Not that it matters if you really don’t have Nott’s Timeturner anymore.”

“I truly don’t have it.” Draco feared that he might live to regret his next words. “The Ministry has it, Marcus. Under extremely secure lock and key. I cannot promise that they will agree but I will speak to Hermione.”

“Granger. The Minister for Magic?” Draco nodded. “By the Gods, Draco, what happened to you. Christmas with Potter, friends with Granger?”

Draco raised an eyebrow at Marcus’ degrading tone. “If you want my or indeed the Ministry's help I would advise you to watch what you’re saying.”

Marcus lifted his hands up in a show of defeat. “Alright, alright. You’ll do it? Soon? We have only a week left.”

“I will speak with her this evening if the opportunity presents itself.”

“See that it does.” Marcus stood up and caught Draco’s look. “Please,” he added. 

*** 

“Ginny, thank you, the meal was wonderful.” Draco folded his napkin neatly and put it down next to his plate. 

“Thank you, Draco. It’s wonderful when someone appreciates the effort that went into the cooking.” She raised both, her glass at him and an accusing eyebrow at Harry. Harry laughed. 

“I’ll be sure to thank Molly when I see her tomorrow.” 

He almost dodged her Bat Bogey Hex. 

Everyone else at the table burst into laughter at the sight of him. Ginny looked satisfied to have landed that hit until her husband moved around to kiss her with the bat wings flapping around both their faces. She released the Hex quickly and properly pulled Harry in for a snog. 

“Ew. MUM.” Three voices shouted it simultaneously. Ginny and Harry broke apart, giggling like teenagers.

“Off you lot run then. Anyone underage is excused! Shoo,” Ginny laughed at the alacrity that the kids all moved. Including those not her own. She turned to Teddy who still sat in his seat with a wide grin. 

“That means you, too, Lupin. Shoo!”

“But I’m not underage, aunt Ginny. I do believe I will stay.”

“And I do believe you just volunteered to babysit that unruly lot before they take apart the house upstairs. Unless you would like us to discuss what we found in your room this morning?” This was delivered sweetly, with a pointed look. 

Teddy’s hair turned grey. 

“Fine. I’m going.” He hastened out of his seat and up the stairs behind the others.

Hermione chuckled. “What did you find?”

“Oh, I can’t tell you now.” She winked, which meant she would hear about it later, out of earshot. Ginny began levitating the dirty dishes over to the sink. 

“Up for a round of chess, Harry?” Ron patted his full belly and made to stand up. Harry followed suit and turned to Draco. 

“Care to join us, Draco? If I remember right, you like to play?”

“I’ll play the winner.” He raised his whisky tumbler in acknowledgement and winked at Harry. Ron scowled. 

The other two men exited the room in search of the chess set. Hermione finished off her cup of tea and made to stand when Draco cleared his throat and addressed her quietly so Ginny wouldn’t overhear.

“I need to speak with you. In private.”

“Now?” She looked at Ginny and back to him. He nodded. “What is it?”

“Can we go somewhere else where we won’t be overheard, Minister?” Hermione’s eyes widened for a fraction at the formal address. 

“Of course, Mr Malfoy.” She stood and walked over to Ginny, murmuring something in the younger woman’s ear. Ginny glanced at Draco with a frown but nodded in reply to whatever Hermione was telling her. 

A couple of minutes later found the two in Harry’s study, the door locked and silencing spells in place. 

Hermione didn’t waste any time. “What’s going on, Draco?”

“You’re not going to like what I have to say.” Draco rubbed the back of his neck with his left hand and went to stand at the window, looking out over the street. His shoulders dropped as he lost himself in memories of his late wife. 

So much so, he jumped when he felt a hand on his arm. Hermione removed it and took a step back from him. 

“Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Her voice was quiet, her eyes searching his. “Is it Scorpius? Has something happened?”

“No,” he said at length. “Nothing like that.” One side of his mouth turned up into a semi smile that held no humour. He inhaled audibly and closed his eyes. Then he told her everything that he had learned from Marcus earlier that day.

When he had finished he found that Hermione had sat down in Harry’s desk chair and that she was staring at him, open-mouthed. He took a step backwards and leaned against the windowsill, waiting.

“That’s- that’s quite a story, Draco.” He nodded. “Do you believe him then? Do you believe this curse exists?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to believe it but he was so distraught. I believe that  _ he _ believes it’s real.” It was Hermione’s turn to nod, slowly. She held his eyes with hers, understanding what he wanted, and quite possibly couldn’t ask.

“I can’t hand him the Timeturner.” She didn’t miss the moment of pain that flickered across his face. It’s been a surprise to her earlier in the year when she realised that Draco Malfoy had a vulnerable side to him that she never would’ve imagined under all that ice.

“What if it’s real. What if-,” he looked around the office, waving his arms wide, “What if we use it to go back and observe only. Find out the curse? If there even was one. Go from there?”

“Draco, I-”

“I don’t want Pansy to die.” The raw emotion in Draco’s face almost made her forget who he was and she had to check herself before she went and hugged him. She squeezed her hands together instead. 

“Of course not. Nobody wants that. ”She stood and began pacing. “It will be difficult though. The Timeturner is kept safe in the Department of Mysteries on my own orders. Even I can’t just walk in there and take it.”

“I know.” Draco hung his head.

“You’ll owe me for this.” His head snapped up in time to see Hermione reach for one of the bright red pieces of parchment the ministry use for emergency memoranda. “I’m making no promises and I don’t know if we’ll have enough time. If this leads to nothing…” 

***

Monday 28th December 2020

Draco stretched and yawned. It was way too early to be awake yet no matter what he tried, sleep was eluding him. He stared at the ceiling and thought about Astoria, about how she used to snuggle to him in the mornings, and about how he enjoyed being woken up by her. 

Before the blood curse claimed her. Merlin, he missed her. He wished she were here with him, he wished he could still remember every detail of her face. Guilt washed over him when he realised that bit by bit, day by day, a little bit more of her details were lost to him. 

He sighed, wishing it weren’t so bloody quiet in the house. Scorpius had stayed at the Potters’’ last night and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow. Not that he’d be awake at this hour anyway.

A silver Otter hopped onto Draco’s bed and interrupted his thoughts by speaking with Hermione Granger’s voice. 

“Draco, meet me at the Ministry at 8 am sharp. My office. Don’t be late.”

He glanced at his watch. 7.09am. 

***

“Come in!”

Draco used his free hand to open the door, keeping a level wand at the little paper tray that carried two takeaway cups. He closed the door behind him and fished the steaming drinks out of the air. Wand safely stowed away, he placed one in front of Hermione.

“Black, no sugar.” 

“Thank you. Yours still more milk than coffee and laced with more sugar than a cane plantation?” she teased.

“Not quite,” he huffed. “It’s tea, and I have swapped the sugar for honey.”

“How healthy of you,” Hermione quipped. “On a serious note, I have managed to secure the use of the Timeturner.” She held up a hand to stop Draco from interrupting. “There are conditions.”

She had taken the lid off the paper cup and blew on the steaming coffee. She stared at the cup thoughtfully.

“You went to a Muggle coffee shop?” She looked at him as if she hadn’t seen him in a long time.

Draco shrugged. “Their tea’s good.” 

Hermione kept looking at him as if he were a puzzle of some sort. He gave a short laugh. “What?”

“Nothing, I just never thought I’d see Draco Malfoy willingly use a Muggle anything.” She smiled at him. “You surprise me.”

It was uncomfortable, to have one of Hermione’s real smiles directed at him. So he shrugged and cleared his throat, diverting back to the purpose of their meeting. 

“What are the conditions?” 

“The conditions, right.” She pulled a sheet of parchment from a folder on her desk and handed it to him. “I had to sign an agreement, these are the main points.” 

  * The Timeturner is to be handled, and used, solely by Hermione Jean Granger-Weasley. 
  * The Timeturner is not to leave her person under any circumstance. 
  * Minister Granger-Weasley will bear full responsibility for any travel with this instrument. 
  * Minister Granger-Weasley promised, under wizard oath, to not interfere with the past, but to simply observe.
  * The Timeturner is to be returned to the Department of Mysteries, Ministry of Magic, London, by 6 pm on the same day it is taken.

“You are not going alone.”

“Of course I am. We cannot risk upsetting the timeline any more than we are already.”

“How are you going to find them? How are you going to know what to look out for?”

“The same way you would, I imagine. I will have to speak to Flint to find out the location, and I will then observe the wedding. My memories will then be used by our Cursebreakers to try and identify any untoward magic.” She crossed her arms. “I’m quite capable, you know.”

“Of course I know. I never doubted your capabilities.” Draco took a sip of his tea. “Your sanity, on the other hand, I doubt very much. Do you really think you will be able to walk up to and observe, a pureblood wedding?” He raised an eyebrow in challenge.

“Because I’m Muggleborn?” She sounded incredulous even to herself and wondered why she thought he’d changed. Clearly, he hadn’t changed that much.

“Yes.” He stunned her by admitting. “You misunderstand,” he added when he saw her murderous look. “Look, there are things that have been bred into every pureblooded wizard and witch there ever was. From the day I was born, I was brought up how to walk, talk, sit, eat, dammit, even how to bloody breathe.” 

He sat down his cup and used his hand to mess his hair. 

“Merlin, Hermione, I don’t give a fig if you’re Muggleborn. Honestly, I don’t so don’t look at me as if I’m the next Dark Lord. However, you will stand out like a sore thumb  _ to them _ .”

She let out a breath and her face relaxed a smidgeon. 

“I can’t change the terms,” she said tersely. “Do you want to stop?”

“No. We have to try this.” 

For a moment neither spoke, both lost in thoughts. Hermione broke the silence first.

“Go get Flint and bring him to your house. I’ll meet you there. If we’d bring him into the Ministry, more questions would be asked.”

Draco nodded in agreement. “See you in an hour.”

“Thirty minutes.”

He couldn’t help the grin. “So bossy.”

***

Exactly thirty-two minutes later, Hermione knocked on Draco’s door. He opened it and made a show about checking his watch.

“You’re late.” A smirk. She smirked back as she entered and smacked him on his arm. “And violent.”

“You’ll live. Where’s Flint?” She was taking her heavy travelling cloak off and hung it up on the stand by the large mirror. Fleetingly, she looked around herself, noting how warm the house felt upon entering, not only by temperature but by how it was decorated. 

“By all means, make yourself at home.” Draco had crossed his arms in front of his chest and pointedly looked at her, then moved his chin towards the room on their right. “In the front receiving room.” 

Hermione immediately moved in that direction and he muttered, “after you,” behind her back and followed her in.

Marcus Flint jumped up off the armchair.

“Granger!” he all but yelled at her in greeting.

Simultaneously, as she replied, “It’s Granger-Weasley, now, Mr Flint,” Draco replied with, “That’s Minister Granger-Weasley to you, Flint.”

Hermione turned her head and glared at Draco who looked back at her, shocked at the hostile look towards him. She returned her attention to the man in front of her.

“Mr Flint, please be seated. Tell me everything you know about how and when the curse took place and was initiated.”

***

An hour and a half later, Marcus Flint left and Hermione wondered if her headache was a sign of things to come. She leaned her head back against the armchair, closed her eyes, and rubbed her temples in a circular motion. 

What a mess. From what Flint had told them, all signs pointed to the curse being real. Which meant Pansy was indeed in danger of dying in only four days’ time. And still, it appeared, she was none the wiser.

Four days to break an unknown curse. 

No pressure. 

She would’ve laughed if it weren’t so serious in its absurdness. A light touch to her shoulder made her open her eyes. Draco held out a vial to her.

“Drink this, it’ll help with your headache.”

She took it off him. “How did you know?”

“It’s obvious you can barely see straight.” He swallowed. “Astoria, she suffered headaches often, towards the end. This potion was one thing that helped her.”

Hermione uncorked the potion and sniffed at it. Peppermint. Carefully, she sipped a little. 

“What else helped?” She took another sip and closed her eyes again, relishing that her forehead began to cool, removing the knife-like pain. She would have to ask him exactly how to brew this, it was working wonders. 

Her eyes flew open when she felt fingers at her temples, and she jumped up.

“What are you doing?”

“You asked what else helped. And I...,” he trailed off, looking away. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh. Well, thank you. For the potion. My head feels a lot better.”

“You’re welcome.”

She cleared her throat. “So, now we have all the information from Flint, the Cursebreakers are standing by… I guess there’s only one thing left to do.”

Hermione pulled out a purple velvet drawstring bag out of her purse. 

“I never thought I’d see this again.” She frowned at the Timeturner that now glistened in her hand. 

“Neither did I.” He watched her carefully set down the velvet bag. “I should tell you more about the ceremony and what to expect.”

“I’m quite aware of what to expect, thank you.” Hermione gave him a stern look.

“Does Ron know?”

“What, that I know how pureblood weddings are conducted?”

“That you’re going into the past.”

She hesitated a moment too long.

“So he doesn’t know. You’re leaving it to me to explain to your husband who hates my guts that you have gone into the past, should anything happen to you?” 

“Nothing will happen to me. I will be back in no time.”

“Funny.”

“You lack courage.”

“I don’t lack courage, I just prefer to live instead of going into something half-cocked.”

“We don’t have time for further arguments. I have a plan and I will stick to it. Draco…,” she paused, taking a breath. “See you soon.”

Hermione concentrated and activated the Timeturner to take her back in time by almost exactly 302 years. 

***

The first thing that hit her, was the heat. The summer of 1718 was hot. 

The second thing that registered, was that she was not alone. 

“Are you  _ insane _ ?” she hissed at Draco who dragged her behind a large yew hedge and let go of her arm immediately. 

“You need me here,” he whispered back just as fiercely. She glared at him. He pulled his wand out and pointed it at her, muttering under his breath. 

She felt her clothes change. Instead of her moss green pencil skirt and a white blouse, she was now wearing long, flowing robes in the same colours. Hermione felt her face heat up. 

“You need to look the part, too.” He waved his wand over his own clothes. “What you were wearing certainly wasn’t the fashion in the early eighteenth century.”

“I was going to Disillusion myself. Nobody would’ve seen me.”

“You think there won’t be wards up that would alert to any intruders?” She was dafter than he thought. “Brightest witch of our age.”

“What do you suggest then, Mr Malfoy?” If looks could kill, he’d have fallen on the spot. 

“I suggest to you, Mistress of Malfoy, that we join the celebrations.”

“Have you lost your mind?”

“Not quite yet. However, I also happen to know that a brother of my great-great-great-grandfather, if you can trust our portrait gallery, looked very much like me. Or I like him.”

“And you don’t think he’ll be here?”

“I know he won’t be here.” Draco grinned at her. “He wasn’t very popular. I won’t bore you with the details. Suffice it to say that Cassius Malfoy was the bad egg in the family who wouldn’t hunt Muggles.”

Hermione gave him an incredulous look. “And you want to just waltz in there? With me posing as your wife? What’s her name?”

“Don’t worry, you will only speak if directly spoken to. Also, did I say you’re my wife? My apologies, by Mistress, I didn’t mean as my wife. I worded that badly. You’re not my wife. You‘re my mistress. Dreadfully bourgeois to lust after my own wife, don’t you think? Be a good little obedient pretty thing on my arm.”

Hermione growled. 

“Lucretia,” he smirked. “I will call you Lucretia.”

Hermione punched him in the arm.

“Ow.” Draco was still grinning though. “Feisty as always.” He raised an eyebrow at her glowering face. He was in for it for sure, he could see her take a breath and the full intention of laying into him in her face. She never had a chance to retaliate though.

Voices carried over to them, and a split second before they were discovered, Draco had grabbed her and crushed his mouth to hers.

He had meant to just kiss her briefly to keep up appearances, but something sparked in him that made him deepen the kiss instead. Draco fully expected Hermione to push him off. He hadn’t expected her to respond. He felt his magic tingle like it hadn’t since Astoria.

Dazed, he pulled back and was brought back into the moment with a bang. His cheek stung where Hermione had slapped him and they were staring at each other, breathless.

“What have we here, then?”

A rotund wizard in purple robes and harsh face looked them over with narrowed eyes. It was only when the second wizard spoke, that Hermione saw him staring up at her. He was no taller than their old Professor Flitwick, yet lacked the friendly aura. 

Draco’s left arm held her to him around her waist. He squeezed her when he realised she was about to speak. Thankfully she took the hint and he replied in his most aloof drawl he could muster.

“Pardon me. The atmosphere, you understand. I couldn’t help myself.’

‘You’re that Malfoy boy!’ the smaller wizard shouted out. 

‘I’m hardly a boy.’ Draco arched his brow and stared down. ‘If you will excuse us, I do believe we shall have to… postpone the celebrations and take a seat.’

He moved and hoped Hermione wouldn’t object. To his relief, she let herself be led forward and towards the large circle which a group of witches and wizards had formed out on the lawn. 

Behind them, the two wizards murmured to each other. Draco hoped their cover would hold.

Hermione tried her best to look around and take in everything without being obvious. In the middle of the circle, she noted, stood a small deis decorated with colourful ribbons that gently swished in the breeze.

Before long, a low murmur ran through the crowd and Hermione turned her head to where it had begun. Along a path, a woman in white flowing robes slowly made her way to the ceremonial site. She held herself regally, head held high, eyes forward. She acknowledged nobody as she approached and the circle parted to admit her to the centre.

Hermione noted that in the centre, a tall wizard with sharp eyes and a sharper nose stood, waiting for her. When she reached him, she gracefully fell to her knees before him, her eyes downcast to his feet. 

Hermione wanted to be sick at such a show of submission. Draco’s hand moved from her waist to her lower back and began small circles. He leaned into her and whispered into her ear.

‘Relax. Remember we’re only observing.’ He had difficulty relaxing. This was certainly not the pureblood wedding he expected. This looked more and more like an ancient ritual that even purebloods shunned under normal circumstances. He wondered why this Flint insisted on a show of dominance like this.

A gnarly old wizard stepped up from behind the deis and held his hands out in welcome. His accent was hard to understand, Hermione thought until she realised that he didn’t speak English. She inhaled sharply at the realisation and Draco pulled her closer with a warning squeeze to her hip. Not once did he look at her. His eyes were also unwavering from the scene in front of them. 

After only a few minutes the celebrant produced a glinting silver knife and motioned for the woman to rise. As she did, her robes fell off her shoulders and she stood, naked. 

Hermione gasped. She couldn’t help it. What kind of wedding was this?

Draco swallowed. This felt wrong. A furtive glance around him showed that he and Hermione were the only ones surprised by this. Everyone else appeared to not only know this would happen but a buzz of anticipation flowed through the crowd. 

The bride held out her right, the groom his left hand to the celebrant who swiftly made a cut across each extended palm. He then brought their hands together and tied them together with a silver ribbon. 

The bride stood, stoic, her eyes on her husband’s throat, while he - for want of a better word - smiled. The smile was not warm. Hermione felt a cold shiver down her spine as she realised it was a predatory smile. 

Hermione hoped this was the end of the ceremony and also hoped that the foreign words would mean anything to the Cursebreakers back in their time. Or was a hag still around somewhere? Flint told them that it happened during the ceremony. So far, she hadn’t seen anyone curse or mumble aside from the celebrant.

Her thoughts were abruptly halted when the bride’s white gown was flattened on the ground and the couple, still tied, laid down upon it. 

‘No,’ she breathed, shocked at what she was witnessing. Draco’s hold on her intensified and she had to stop herself from pushing him off. His fingers were digging into her so much, she was sure he’d leave a bruise.

Draco pulled his eyes off the display in front of them and leaned closer to Hermione. His lips tickled her ear as she breathed his words to her so that others wouldn’t hear him.

‘This is not normal. I don’t know why they’re doing this ritual. I haven’t seen a hag, have you?’

Hermione shook her head imperceptibly. She wanted to avert her eyes but was transfixed, shocked that the groom would copulate with his new wife in front of the guests. The bride had her eyes closed and both hands far above her head as she let her husband touch her intimately. 

She gave no outward indication that she was even aware of what was happening to her.

Hermione watched in horror as the wizard swept his robe aside and, in one forceful motion, entered her. The bride still did not participate, nor did she try to move, or stop her husband. It was then that Hermione understood she must be drugged or under a spell. 

She closed her eyes and swallowed. This was not what she had expected. She felt nauseated by the scene in front of her and felt herself lean into Draco for support. 

‘It’s over.’ 

Draco’s rough whisper sent a shiver down her spine and she nodded at him. Looking over to the couple, she saw that the groom was now standing, having pulled his wife to her feet with him. The white robe they had consummated their marriage on had been levitated high above them, a small but unmistakable red stain standing out in stark contrast. 

A cheer went up from the crowd and Draco made a show to join in even though his voice did not carry. The celebrant raised his hands and spoke one final sentence, then disappeared from view. 

The groom untied their joined hands and righted his own robes. A woman approached and spoke softly to the bride before covering her with a new, red robe. The bride startled, for the first time appearing lucid, and she flinched as the groom took her hand again. 

‘To the happy couple!’ shouted a wizard to the right of them, lifting his wand high and shooting silver stars into the sky. One by one, the rest of the guests followed suit. Draco and Hermione were some of the last to do so, each hoping they could escape the festivities sooner rather than later. 

Contrary to what Hermione had told Draco before she activated the Timeturner, she now felt utterly lost. She had researched about pureblood weddings, hell, she’d had one herself! None of that research had led to this though. She hoped she didn’t look as rattled as she felt and was glad for Draco’s presence and his arm to hold onto.

They mingled in the crowd for a while, keeping a lookout for this hag that Flint had mentioned. Each time they were approached by other guests, Draco gave them what he called the ‘cut direct’ and simply turned his back, his whole body screaming aloof arrogance. For once, Hermione was glad that women here seemed submissive. That way, her covert glances around the crowd were certainly not attracting the attention they might have otherwise. 

‘We don’t have much longer. We must return soon,’ she mumbled to him when nothing of note happened for the next hour. Guests mingled, drank, ate, and made merry. The bride and groom sat in what Hermione could only call thrones set up near the edge of the lawn and were largely left alone. 

Every now and then, they were approached and congratulated, gifts handed over but nothing out of the ordinary as far as they could see. 

As the bridal couple did not move around, Draco and Hermione decided to find a secluded spot behind one of the large hedges again in order to spy freely and be able to converse better. 

She sighed heavily as they finally found their covered spot.

‘I’m so sorry Hermione.’ Draco was first to break the silence. ‘This - this was-’

‘I know. Archaic. Demeaning.’ She checked on the couple. They were alone. ‘I can’t believe I just witnessed her being raped and did nothing.’

Draco didn’t even think about it, just pulled her into his arms. Hermione closed her eyes and wished she could forget what she just witnessed. 

‘He’s her husband. These are different times. It’s not considered rape here.’

‘I know,’ she mumbled into his robes. ‘It doesn’t make it less deploring.’

Hermione lifted her head from Draco’s chest and looked up at him. Momentarily, she was startled by just how close they were, and how his light eyes bore into hers. It took her a second to remember what she was going to say next. She cleared her throat awkwardly and pulled back from him.

He let her go.

‘Why though? Why did he consummate this in front of witnesses?’

‘My guess is to show either that she was indeed untouched,’ he cringed. ‘Or to alleviate any doubt about their union so it couldn’t be annulled after.’ Almost as an afterthought, he added, ‘Or maybe both.’

Hermione nodded slowly. ‘From what Flint told us, the groom had money, the bride had the pure blood to further the lineage.’ She looked disgusted. ‘She’s a broodmare to him.’

‘It would appear so. He must have wanted to make sure that any heirs were indeed his, and she hadn’t taken a lover before their union.’ Draco shrugged. Hermione agreed that this was likely what had led to this. 

After what felt like an eternity, the guests finally departed and Hermione and Draco clasped hands and activated the Timeturner to return to their own time.

*** 

When they arrived back at Draco’s house, both were quiet for a time, each contemplating what had happened and glad to be back, far away from a very unsavoury past. Draco went to the kitchen and prepared coffee and tea, before finding her again in his study. 

‘Thank you.’ She took the steaming beverage off him. He smiled as he watched her inhale the steam greedily. She was still wearing the transfigured robes.

‘Beautiful.’ He spoke without thinking and, dammit all, blushed when he realised.

‘What?’ She looked at him, wondering if she heard him right. He cleared his throat and decided he might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb.

‘You look beautiful.’ 

‘I - thank you, Draco.’ 

He nodded, honestly surprised that he’d never really noticed before just how pretty she was. 

‘I suppose I better change back to my normal clothes.’ With a wave of her wand, she was back in her pencil skirt and blouse.

‘Still pretty,’ he surprised her by saying. She looked away from him feeling awkward. It had been a long time since she’d heard those words, longer still since she’d felt it.

‘Are we going to meet the Cursebreakers tonight?’

‘No,’ she answered. ‘I will extract the memory of the day and hand it over first thing tomorrow morning. Hopefully, something will show. I fear we’ve not found anything and the whole trip was for nought.’

‘I’m sure we just didn’t realise it happening at the time. When the memory gets scrutinized, they will find it.’ After a beat, he added, ‘They have to.’

‘You don’t think this was the wrong wedding?’

‘No. It had to have been the one. It was so… it felt wrong. Like it did when-’ Draco shook his head and stopped. The anguished look didn’t escape Hermione though.

‘Like when…,’ she nudged quietly when it became apparent that he wouldn’t elaborate. 

‘Never mind. Would you like anything else to drink? Wine? More coffee?’ 

She stepped closer to him and put a hand on his arm. ‘Draco, has this happened before? I mean, this ritual. Did you witness it before?’

‘Hermione-’

She probably should have stopped at the warning tone of his voice. She ploughed on, however.

‘Draco, maybe it’s important. Something we’ve missed today. What did it remind you of? Was it another wedding? Maybe your aunt’s, or-’

‘Dammit Hermione, shut up!’ 

She removed her hand as if she was burnt and stared up at him with wide eyes. Then she narrowed them and laid into him proper. 

‘I’m sorry, Draco, I was under the impression that you wanted to find out what is happening to Pansy and if your memories could help-’

‘Rape,’ he barked out, interrupting her. ‘It felt wrong, just like the rapes I had to watch when Voldemort took over my house and punished his followers in the most unspeakable words if they didn’t deliver.’

Words failed her. She knew Draco had endured a lot during that time, but it had never occurred to her that rape, or witnessing such, was part of it. Hermione opened her mouth to say something but closed it instead when she realised that she had nothing. 

After a few more minutes of awkward silence, she put down her now empty mug and moved to the hall to pull on her coat. Draco stayed in the study. She had an inexplicable urge to go back to him and hug him. Instead, she let herself out the front door and apparated home.

***

The next day saw Hermione at the ministry before the sun was fully up. She’d tried to sleep, but it didn’t come and eventually, she gave it up as a bad job. So she sat at her desk and had syphoned off her memory ready for the Cursebreakers to work with and personally handed the Timeturner back to the Unspeakable down in the Department of Mysteries. 

She’d been careful to begin the memory after their kiss.

Their kiss. She’d nearly forgotten about it after all that happened after. Now, however, it was back in the forefront of her mind and she tried very hard to tell herself that it was nothing, meant nothing, that she felt nothing. If she did that often enough, she would believe it herself. 

It was only because it surprised her, she reasoned. The jolt of electricity she’d felt when their lips met. It was only because it surprised her, that she had gasped and reciprocated. Nothing more. It couldn’t be. 

Yet, when she’d kissed her husband last night, she’d felt nothing. Nothing but familiarity. She loved Ron, she really did. Didn’t she? Wasn’t it normal that the spark would be less after well over a decade of marriage?

Her wayward thoughts were interrupted by a knock on her door. Her secretary stuck her head in to inform her that the Cursebreaking Department had sent a memo simply to say ‘on it’ and that she’d know what they meant. Hermione nodded her thanks and assured Mabel that she indeed knew what it was about.

She could only hope that something positive came out of this.

*** 

It took until Wednesday lunchtime for Draco to convince Marcus to bring Pansy down to the Ministry in order for her to be told of her impending fate. 

‘What’s going on?’ Pansy eyed Hermione with disdain. ‘Why are we here, Marcus?’

‘Pansy,’ Hermione began, unsure if she should just come out with it, or lead up to it. How did you tell someone that they’d have a good chance of dropping dead over the next day? 

‘Out with it,  _ Minister _ , clearly I’ve done something.’ Pansy pouted. ‘Not sure what I did though to get your knickers in a twist.’ 

‘You did nothing. It’s- Maybe it would be best if Marcus explained.’ She looked towards the man in question, who looked ill and held on to Pansy’s hand as if his life depended on it. 

‘I can’t, I-’ 

A knock on the door interrupted him. 

‘Come in!’ 

The door opened at Hermione’s command and a young wizard no older than 25 entered the office. 

‘Mr McLoughlan.’ Hermione stood to shake his hand. ‘Tell me you have good news.’ It took a lot for her to keep her tone even and not pleading. 

He smiled. ‘I do indeed, Minister.’

‘You do?’

‘Aye. We’ve been over it and found how to break the cycle, for that’s what it is. You could call it a curse but it’s slightly different.’

‘You’re sure? You’re sure to break it?’

‘That’s the hope, at least. Here’s the how, all in print as you like it.’

She took the file off him, thanking him profusely, hope flaring up within her. After the young Cursebreaker left, Marcus jumped up to grab the file. Hermione stopped him.

‘Let me read through this while you explain to Pansy. She must know now. She has a right to.’

‘Tell me what? What’s going on?’ Marcus pulled her into an embrace for a long moment. When he released her, he began telling her all about his family’s curse. Pansy blanched as he explained.

When he’d finished Hermione was also done reading through the report. She looked up at the couple. 

‘Pansy, I know we’ve had our differences in the past but you must believe I want this to succeed and for you to live.’ She took another breath and elaborated.

‘This curse your father told you about, Marcus, isn’t actually a curse.’ She couldn’t help but chuckle. ‘If this report is correct, it is self-inflicted.’

‘What?’ Marcus shouted and sprang to his feet in outrage. ‘You think I did this to her on purpose? Or she to herself? Are you out of your mind?’

Hermione held up her hand to placate him. 

‘No, of course not. That is not what I meant to imply.’ She shuffled the papers around until she found the passage she was looking for. ‘What I meant by that, is that your family, Mr Flint, has been very… traditional. Since that wedding in 1718, the ceremony largely remained the same. Thankfully, some aspects have been removed by now.’ 

She suppressed a shudder when she thought of the couple consummating before their guests. 

‘What hasn’t changed since then, are the words spoken by the celebrants. They are in an ancient language, and woven into them is a vow, similar to an Unbreakable Vow, that stipulates it is broken if no male child has been born within 10 years. And so the person breaking this vow dies.’ She looked at Pansy who she’d never seen look so frightened.

‘This is not, however, an Unbreakable Vow. There is a way to stop it. It requires another ritual, the details of which are in this report.’ She handed it over to the couple. ‘I’m sure you will be able to follow these instructions.’ 

When the two had left, she sank into her chair and let her head drop to her arms on her desk. This was not how she’d imagined spending Christmas and the days after. She felt elated to have been able to help save Pansy though it was bittersweet as the aftertaste of it was confusion. 

What she really wanted to do was figure out the jumbled thoughts in her head. She itched to make lists to unravel it all but was afraid to write it all out lest it showed her something she wasn’t ready to see. 

‘Can I come in?’

Draco’s voice startled her back upright. She hadn’t heard a knock and normally her secretary would’ve announced any visitors. Hermione fought in vain against the blush now colouring her cheeks as he walked into her office. He looked good, she thought and admonished herself for the thought. This wasn’t healthy. 

‘Please, have a seat,’ she offered and gestured to the less formal seating area in her magical bay window. Magical snow gently fell outside it. Hermione joined Draco on the couch, making sure to leave space between them. She folded her hands in her lap, feeling awkward. He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his whole posture speaking of a mixture of exhaustion and relief. 

‘I just heard. It’s been resolved? Pansy is safe?’ He looked up at her through his fringe which had fallen forward over his face. He looked boyish and young. Hermione stopped herself from pushing his hair back.

‘Yes. Well, she will be, once they… once they complete this new ritual.’

Draco sat up at that. 

‘A new ritual?’

She smiled ruefully. ‘Yes. You see, the celebrant for the Flint family has been using the same marriage rites since that wedding we’ve witnessed. The consummation has been private for at least a century now, thankfully.’ She cleared her throat. ‘However, the idea is still the same. The words spoken alongside the handfasting - they are almost an Unbreakable Vow. Almost. It has the same effect, but it is breakable. It just requires a sacrifice.’

‘What kind of sacrifice?’

‘Well,’ she stopped and looked uncomfortable. ‘Another blood sacrifice.’ She looked away from Draco, feeling very awkward. ‘It requires another fasting of sorts. Just not by hands. It… requires more intimate places to be bled, and then mixed while consummating again and another, different, ritualistic phrase to be spoken.’ 

The silence that followed that statement was pregnant with awkwardness. Draco broke it first.

‘Well, then. I’m glad. And mildly disgusted.’ She looked up at him at that. When their eyes met, both burst into laughter. It wasn’t even that funny, but neither could stop.

When they had eventually regained their composure, Draco got up to stand. 

‘Thank you, Hermione.’ He held out his hand to her and she took it. Instead of shaking it, he pulled her to standing and brought it up to his lips, ghosting a kiss across her knuckles.

‘I owe you a drink, or a dinner, to thank you for your help.’ He brushed his thumb across her fingers as he let go of her hand. Her throat was dry and she couldn’t bring herself to speak. This was all wrong! Why then did she nod her agreement?

He walked to the door, opened it and turned back to her briefly. 

He smiled at her, then bowed slightly. ‘It’s a date, Minister.’


End file.
